The End of The Postecoglou Era: 6 Tottenham Talking Points

So Our Glorious Leader is gone – long live whichever poor squirt is roped in next. But while we await the appointment of Grandmaster Levy’s next wretched plaything, some reflections on the end of the Postecoglou era.

1. League Form

Might as well head straight to the meaty stuff – Ange was elbowed out for finishing 17^th. Shiny European pots be damned, seemed to be the gist of the farewell message from the club (although I was rather tickled by the line that burbled “We are extremely grateful to Ange”, it prompting me to wonder what ingratitude would look like).

Now, it’s a bit early in the piece, but I’m going to set off on my first digression already, and it’s because one well-meaning sort put it to me recently that if the bottom three hadn’t been so bad we might have been relegated.

AANP isn’t really much of a lad for historical hypotheticals. Suggest to me that if such and such had happened differently some time in the past then things would have turned out a dashed sight differently, and you’ll get a pretty blank stare in return. Possibly a gentle sigh too. The reason being I just don’t see the point in that brand of thinking. Far more useful to discuss what actually happened.

So for avoidance of doubt, Ange wrote off the League campaign precisely because the bottom three were so bad that there was no danger of relegation, instead shoving every available egg into his Europa basket and taking his plunge.

If that theory were cleared with Daniel Levy back in January, it’s a pretty safe bet that none involved anticipated finishing 17^th – but finish 17^th we did.

One can throw in last season’s harvest too, although there the plot does thicken a bit, as both sides begin marking their run-up. The Pro-Ange brigade point to 5^th, followed by a trophy, and rather pointedly say no more but dish out one of those pointed stares.

This line of reasoning rather tugs at the heart-strings. Who amongst us can forget the dizzy highs of last summer, when Angeball fizzed us to the top of the pile, and not just that, but did so while peddling some absolutely whizz-popping football too? When put like that, one does become rather misty-eyed and start murmuring guff about glory, and tradition, and whatnot.

The more mischievous amongst the Pro Ange brigade could even evoke the entirely accurate gambit that Ange’s record reads 5^th in his first season, and CL qualification in his second, the whole thing garnished with a trophy – a factually correct interjection guaranteed to prompt a pretty passionate response either way.

However, at this point the Ange Out mob roll their eyes and interrupt, to make clear that, after the first 10 games of last season, our form fell off a cliff. And nor did it stop there. I don’t know if you’ve ever fallen off a cliff, but as I understand, though deeply unpleasant, the whole experience is done in a matter of seconds, as Gravity takes charge and the ground looms into view pretty quickly. The problem with our heroes under Ange was that having fallen off that cliff, they just kept right on falling. In fact, our form continued to plunge in pretty uninterrupted fashion for about 18 months. From Nov ’23 right through to May ’25, to be precise. Which is a heck of a long time to be falling, by any metric.

It’s a punchy argument. If you pick up the thread after the 10^th game of last season (Chelsea at home, for the evocative amongst you) our Win-Draw-Loss record for the remainder, of 12-4-12, was at best middling – and for avoidance of any further doubt, this season’s numbers read a rather ghastly 11-5-22.

And having had a season and a half to weave his magic, the Ange Out contingent continue, rather hotting up at this point, what the hell reason is there to expect things to pick up next time around?

2. Change the Squad, Not the Manager?

It’s difficult to counter that one, but AANP is nothing if not wilfully obtuse. Passing mules have been known to pause and take notes when catching yours truly digging in the heels to defend the indefensible.

And the point I swoop in on here is that the problem was not so much the manager as the squad. From January, Ange opted to keep the top-tier performers for European jollies, instead shoving out the reserves for the weekend’s PL appointments.

In particular, Messrs VDV and Romero were strictly curfewed. Ange’s medical understanding may have raised a few eyebrows over the last two seasons, but if there’s one thing he clocked it’s that VDV is constructed of balsa wood and blu-tac, and that the risk of damage to his various moving parts ought to be minimised.

As a result, we regularly fulfilled our PL commitments with such luminaries as Dragusin, Davies, Gray and Danso manning the back-door, and while the latter pair in particular showed that they could just about keep their heads above water, there was an unmistakeable drop in quality.

That focuses on the centre-backs alone, but the point about the drop in quality – or the alternative, of running into the ground poor saps such as Solanke – suggests that ours was not a squad good enough to compete in two different competitions.

And, crucially, I see no reason why any new manager will find the situation to be any different when trying to balance Champions League with Premier League next season (plus a domestic cup or two).

As I saw it put neatly elsewhere a week or two ago, rather than changing manager, our lot would do well to improve the playing squad.

3. The Game Is About Glory?

A well-worn argument this, so if you think you’re better off skipping over this bit and casting the eye instead over the next chapter, AANP fully understands.

The nub of this one is that finishing 5^th – or indeed 2^nd – is all well and good, and buys the club a ticket to the land of milk and honey – but the satisfaction of scanning the league table after Matchday 38 and seeing the club in the top five rows of a glorified spreadsheet does not compare to the feelings brought about by that Wednesday night in Bilbao, or the Friday afternoon on the High Road.

I suppose going 17 years without a trophy added a certain colour to the moment – I can’t imagine City fans feel the same giddy ecstasy when they lift the PL pot year after year – but there are just no words to describe that unique sense of joy felt when we won the Europa League last month, what?

The point I’m getting at is that winning a trophy is, to an extent, the point of the whole thing. When the great D.B. rattle off that line about the game being about the glory, he knew what he was about.

So for those who click the tongue and point out we finish 17^th – which, as alluded to above, is a robust riposte, which does merit a spot of animated discussion – I wonder where the line is drawn. That is to say, at what point is the absence of a trophy justified by the league position.

At this point, I like to grab a notepad, produce a pencil, and start to draw up these things systematically. Starting with the next spot up – 16^th, and no trophy, is pretty obviously not going to cut it. A manager would need the world’s most extenuating circumstances, and probably a top of the range lawyer too, to escape the sack in that instance.

And one can shimmy up the table a bit further with the same conclusion. 11^th or 10^th, without a trophy, would almost certainly have seen Levy give his axe a merry swing, and I’m not sure too many of the diehards would have been able to argue against any such move (which might make Messrs Silva and Frank shuffle their feet a little nervously).

But what about 6^th, without a trophy? This does of course simplify the argument rather deviously, for the Postecoglou trajectory has done little to suggest that 6^th will be in the offing next season (although the squad depth argument could again be invoked here, as I genuinely wonder if the greatest managers in history of the game could poke and prod our current squad into a decent CL run and a 6^th placed finish).

Nevertheless, the question remains of whether 6^th without a trophy would have been acceptable. If in two seasons’ time, the new chap at the helm has on his CV a record of 5^th – as per Ange – followed by 6^th, and no trophy, is he treated to a P45 and bland social media announcement? Anyone waiting for Daniel Levy to open up and treat them to a detailed discourse on precisely which position is acceptable to him in these circumstances might be advised to pack some supplies and a good book. We’ve had all the explanation we’re going to get from that quarter.

Nevertheless, given that Ange’s decision to write off the league and win a trophy did not cut the mustard in the corridors of power at N17, the question of which league position would have been acceptable without a trophy burns pretty feverishly here.

4. Our Next Glorious Leader

The other gripe here at AANP Towers is that the names being touted do not exactly inspire confidence. The new chap will, of course, have the full AANP backing. Nothing but.

However, Frank’s recent finishes are 10^th, 16^th, 9^th and 13^th; and Silva’s are 11^th, 13^th and 10^th, with nary a pot to wave aboard an open-topped bus between the pair. I confess, in a moment of weakness, I flung up a careless hand and declined to check the records of the other names being bandied about the place, but I’m willing to assert that they in terms of league finishes – and that seems to be the currency de jour – this mob are not exactly the new incarnations of Ferguson and Wenger.

Now, extenuating circumstances seep from the walls when discussing this lot. Weaker squads, limited finances, impressive over-achievement – anyone labelling either Frank or Silva (or Iranola or any of the other lot) as King of the Mugs would probably need a sit-down and a bit of a talking to. These are knowledgeable beans, and they’ve done pretty impressive stuff in their own little contexts.

Another point worth jabbing a finger at is that one M. Pochettino Esq. was hardly swimming in silverware and dripping with Top Four finishes when he rocked up in N17. And indeed, those who did arrive with gleaming CVs did not take the club much further than we had previously been.

Nevertheless, sacking one manager – who’s just brought in a European trophy – simply to eye up someone who’s best efforts are mid-table water-treading is a bit of a hard sell. AANP is not easily swayed on matters of importance. The argument for the next man in will need to be a convincing one.

5. Rebuild

On top of which, anyone expecting an instant and successful transformation probably needs a friendly hand on their shoulder, and a bit of an explanation of how life works at Tottenham Hotspur. And frankly, I do not have the moral fibre to sit through yet another dashed two-year rebuild.

The current squad might lack depth, but it is – or was – gradually being fashioned into a model that played a certain way. What formation will they all have to adapt to next, in the space of two months? Which poor eggs will find themselves surplus to requirements, having just spent the last two years pruning their deliveries to cater for the previous Big Cheese? If the contemplation of this sort of thing has you wearily reaching for a beakerful of something strengthening you are not alone.

It should also be noted that the players have evidently been tripping over themselves to bash out their social media tributes to the previous incumbent. No doubt they’ll all line up to parrot the appropriate lines when the new fellow is installed, but even the most cynical amongst us will probably have detected that the current vintage had a fondness for Ange. A dashed shame that that now goes the way of all flesh – and I for one am a mite concerned that certain amongst our number might take this as a cue to jump ship, in what one might call a Ruddock-Venables Gambit.

6. Timing

I could go on – so I will. Having waited 17 years to win a trophy, we were only given 16 days to enjoy it, dash it, before this fresh hell was sprinkled about the place.

In truth, if you’re going to sack your manager, better to get a wriggle on pronto, as I believe Shakespeare more or less said. No point in letting the blade come down in early August if you can do it in early June.

What does peeve considerably, however, is that the finishing touches have evidently not yet been applied to the bagging of the new chappie. Who knows, perhaps the opening touches have not yet been applied either? Whatever the case, the absence of touches is disconcerting.

I cannot be the only lilywhite considerably stung by the farce of the post-Jose period, in which the good ship Hotspur careered rather wildly this way and that in search of a new manager, publicly courting and being rejected by one knowing soul after another.

Liverpool, Woolwich et al are already cherry-picking new blood for their squads, and meanwhile our heroes mooch around in limbo. (And if anyone mentions to me that Ben Davies’ contract has been extended they’ll be subject to one of my more withering efforts.)

However, in moments of trial and tribulation AANP has often found that the best course of action is to seek solace from the first two Terminator films, and while it’s not strictly true that there is no fate but what we make – our fate being pretty firmly within the paws of Grandmaster Levy – it as at least true that the future is not set, so perhaps we can contemplate the prospect of having even more glory shovelled our way next time out.

As for Ange, decades hence when lilywhite fans look back, maybe they will chunter about finishing 17^th or maybe they won’t; but he earns his lifetime’s free drinks at AANP Towers for taking us on one heck of a ride, winning us a trophy and, for a few days at least, bringing a joy to the place like none I had previously experienced.

Need some Spurs-based reading material to see you through the summer? Want to relive the utterly bonkers ride that was Ange’s first season at Spurs? ‘All Action No Plot: Postecoglou’s First Season’, is available for just £7.99 from Amazon (ebook from £6.99)